


Roll the Bones

by frogfarm



Category: Angel: the Series, Firefly
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Gen, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-02
Updated: 2006-03-02
Packaged: 2019-01-29 22:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12640233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: The crew of Serenity pick up another strange package.





	Roll the Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Post-"Not Fade Away"/Big Damn Movie. Started before Big Damn Movie; revised slightly after.

__

> _"Y'all gonna be here when I wake up?"_

  


* * *

  


Serenity glides through endless night as Mal makes another unnecessary check of the navsys. Quieter than usual inside as well, even with the million and one little hisses and hums of machinery doing its job; autopilot's performing for the first time he can recall since the day he fired up her core. Not like they've needed it 'til now.  
  


He shakes his head, forcing his eyes over the instrument panel. _Never again_ , if he has anything to say. He can fly this boat passable -- didn't take long for hands to remember -- though as in all else, their new pilot clearly outranks him. But even genius psychic assassins need sleep; last he saw, she was curled up in her bunk, doing an outstanding job of looking mostly harmless. Everyone else aboard joining her in slumber, for better or worse, leaving him to contemplate plastic figurines of an age and world long dead, wondering if it's all a dream. Fortunate for his peace of mind that River's the only one can disappear at will, and she hasn't availed herself of that particular skill of late; first time when the hunter came, and not a day goes by Mal doesn't give thanks he'd left just as quiet as he'd come, spinning out into nothing and waving goodbye as he tried in vain to hold on.  
  


The black draws his attention once more, the stars few and far away. Uncharted territory, outer limits of the Rim. Few months back it might have been suicide. Now it seems redundant.  
  


He sits and watches the space between, waiting for a sign.  
  


  


* * *

  


Kaylee slumps over Serenity's engine, the metal warm under her fingers. She's done nothing wrong, had no trouble meeting the captain's eyes 'til his anger gave way to disappointment. His logic's undeniable, and of course the Companion is beyond suspicion in keeping her own supply; she doesn't want to see a quota lock on the aitch-to-oh either, but in his position she'd have to consider it too. If she made the right face he'd probly cave, but it's just not in her now.  
  


And of course, it wouldn't be fair. Running dry is bad; not as fast as no air, not as slow as no food, just as unpleasant to think on. Kaylee imagines the ship's thirst like her own parched throat, itches to contemplate the raw numbers laid out for her inspection. Not a single leak in the system though she's been back and forth twice, and no explanation for usage stats that just don't add up. By her figures they'll still make it to the next stop. That's only if they don't start losing more, and they're already far from the shipping lanes, skirting not quite to the edges of Reaver space in search of derelicts to plunder before darting away like frightened rabbits.  
  


She straightens, tries to wipe the smudge off. Captain's paying for a professional, and even if she turns _nuofu_ 'round gunplay she's still the best mechanic he's gonna get. His exact words, and she ain't gonna let him forget for a minute, or have cause to doubt.  
  


Simon is something else. Every night she falls asleep in his arms, downright drunk on the sensation of having and holding every inch of his pale, perfect flesh. Their first was fumbling, almost desperate, when she clung to him like an anchor in an attempt to drown her sorrow over Wash's death; over the next few weeks their couplings have grown slow and languid, long, intense explorations that leave her breathless and utterly fulfilled. Zoe feels like a shadow and Kaylee tries to contain herself, keep the noise to a minimum, but the only time the other woman doesn't bleed is when she stands on the bridge, watching River at the helm. Sometimes she even smiles.  
  


Kaylee stares into her girl's beating heart, waiting for an answer.  
  


  


* * *

  


A thousand flowers bloom inside, echoes of fire that rains down on Mal in his dreams. Simon is wise enough to allow her silence, or at least not to interpret it as catatonia, but his discomfort is only of concern when she remembers. The rest of the time she's caught on the endless tip of every moment, trying ever so hard to come back. She feels Inara's quiet heartache as the Companion sits in her shuttle, already knowing she'll open up her water stores to the crew, while Mal's face will grow dark and he silently accepts it while hating himself for hating her charity; Jayne's growing fear of more accusations, outshadowing almost any fear of death, Zoe's quiet acceptance a hot needle of pain.  
  


"All crammed in this little space..."  
  


"River?" Simon is more cautious since she hurt him, but his patience is wearing thin. "I need to take your vitals. Can you roll up your sleeve?"  
  


"Not a baby." Her gaze flits about the infirmary, pulling hands of blue from him. Every time she's afraid _he_ feels it, and so on, and psychic feedback is not fun in the least. He opens his mouth while hers keeps going, trying to close the loop. "You said you'd listen."  
  


"Yes, mei-mei. You saved us all." Sick fascination burgeoning within, growing fear at his expanding concept of her. It's nothing next to the blinding light he sees every time he looks up (down) at her, and that makes it easier and harder.  
  


"You're not simple, Simon." Her fleeting mockery of their father's sternness makes him smile despite himself. She takes his hand in both of hers. "But you should have known the Independents would send dinosaurs."  
  


"Yes, well..." He blinks, but she cuts him off.  
  


"I wasn't seeing it then. It really was a coincidence. This --" She frees one hand, gestures expansively around them. "This is one of the dinosaurs."  
  


He smiles. "Better not let Kaylee hear you say that."  
  


"Part of why she likes her." The new voice is louder, tugging her away from him. She knows it isn't there, buzzing around her ear; doesn't flail madly and shriek at the thought of it entering. It hurts regardless.  
  


"We're all antiques," she whispers, eyes locked on nothing and everything. His arms cradle her and she holds back from breaking them, the cold well opens beneath and it's not the comforting black.  
  


"Listen..."  
  


  


* * *

  


  
  


His back and shoulders burn and the sweat stings his eyes, but Jayne's not done yet, not by a long shot. He's been hitting the iron heavier of late. Bad enough his best spotter had to leave, then Shepherd had to go and get killed, and where does that leave him? No spotter, that's where; Doc's got no muscle to speak of, Mal's got too much on his mind. Though it was all kinds of satisfying to see crazy-girl flailing on the bench, unable to touch his dead weight record. Even if she'd kicked his ass after.  
  


The end of the third set is in sight as the hollow, metallic thud reaches his ears, and he's sitting up when Mal hits the com.  
  


"Jayne -- suit up and get the doors open. We're makin' a pickup."  
  


  


* * *

  


"What the hell is it?"  
  


"Escape pod?" Zoe's locked and loaded, sawed-off held loose in her able hands; ready as always despite being pulled from bed in the wee hours. Mal wonders she can sleep at all, doc and Kaylee going at it like rabbits, nothing but quiet and worried looks whenever she's around.  
  


"Looks more like a coffin." Jayne strips off the last of his suit, grabs Vera from the weight bench. The thing weighs a ton, or close to, a black cubic rectangle that seems to suck the life and heat right out of the room, covered in faint, archaic scrawls. Simon's going over it with his new hand-held toy, squinting at the display.  
  


"It's clean. At least outside." He glances at the captain. "But I'd advise against opening it, until I can conduct a more thorough scan. I'm not sure --"  
  


"I am." Mal stares down at their cargo. "Fit the description, Zo?"  
  


"Like a glove, sir."  
  


"Make the call."  
  


Zoe heads for the bridge, and Jayne gets a calculating look. "How's come you didn't say nothin' 'bout salvage? Who's it for?"  
  


"Didn't ask." Mal's fingers toy with the gun strapped to his leg. Simon frowns.  
  


"Captain -- if it isn't too much to ask, I'd like to scan this for infectious agents before you hand it over to men of...questionable ethics."  
  


Mal looks comically wounded. "Doctor, I'm shocked you'd suggest such a thing. 'Sides, these fellows were nothin' but shiny. Made you look like you should be polishin' Jayne's shoes."  
  


"You can't give him to them." Jayne nearly drops his weapon, but the others are almost getting used to River sneaking up on them. The girl sits on the floor next to the box, running one hand over its surface.  
  


"Come again, little albatross?" Mal's humor has fled as he kneels beside her. "You tellin' me there's someone in there?"  
  


River nods. "Trapped him. Caught halfway, stuck forever. Want to use him again." She turns a solemn face to him. "You can't let them."  
  


"All right." No need for her to tell twice, after all they've been through; already he's revising supply estimates, waving goodbye to the fat sack of platinum, ready to run and fight if the gentlemen in question decide to follow. Too bad Zoe's already made the call.  
  


In the meantime, this unwieldy object is a burden he'd just as soon be rid of. "Open the hatch."  
  


"No!" River clutches her arms around the container, suddenly terrified. "Can't leave him alone!"  
  


He silences Jayne with a look. "You got somethin' better in mind? 'Cause I really don't think we can spare the room --"  
  


A smile of pure sunshine. "I know where to go."  
  


  


* * *

  


"Fascinating," Simon murmurs.  
  


"You wanna keep it down?" Jayne grimaces, rubbing his bicep. " _Chou san ba_ nearly took m' gorram arm off."  
  


Mal ignores them both. "River says you're the one, so -- here y'are. Mule can't handle the weight, so you'll be needin' --" He breaks off as the slight figure hoists the box over one shoulder. "Right. Well, we'd best be off."  
  


"Thank you." The strange blue woman nods to River. "The vampire will occupy a place of honor in my garden."  
  


"Huh?" Part of Mal's brain is still processing _vampire_ , but the rest of the meaning seems clear. "You sayin' -- you're gonna use him for _fertilizer_?"  
  


The box never wavers on her shoulder, and he realizes her muscles aren't even bulging under the strain.  
  


"The Wolf, Ram and Hart sought to bind him between life and death. To punish him, for daring to strike against them. If they wish to restore him, it is for their benefit." Mal shivers as the woman cocks her head, feeling like a bug trapped in pincers. "I will not allow that."  
  


"He's fought long enough." River smiles, turning to Mal. "He'll make wonderful daffodils."  
  
  
  



End file.
